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<title>The Tick Tick Ticking of My Heart, The Itch Itch Itching of My Skin by BawdyBean</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676548">The Tick Tick Ticking of My Heart, The Itch Itch Itching of My Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean'>BawdyBean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ASD coded Dettlaff, Alive Dettlaff van der Eretein, Counting, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, No beta we die like mne, Old Men In Love, Regis doesn't get off and he is completely alright with that, Sensation Play, Service Top, abrasion play, skin brushing, this is about Dettlaff for him anyway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:14:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Regis is looking down at him with his hands clasped behind his back expectantly, bent just slightly forward at the waist as if he needs to get closer for a better view. He does not.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Why do you do this to me?” That is what Dettlaff hears come from his mouth instead, when he opens it again.</i></p><p>  <i>“My dear, I would say because you need it, but I’m afraid you would give me that look again. So how about this instead: Because I want you to do something for me?” Regis smiles. Wide and bright, unhindered by the need to hide his fangs and his nature.</i></p><p> <br/>Dettlaff is sometimes overwhelmed and worn out by passing in the human world. He does it because it is important to Regis. Dettlaff would never want to take such an essential part of his partner away from him so he does his best. Sometimes though it all adds up to be too much and he struggles.</p><p>Seeing this Regis devises a way to help Dettlaff relax and let go of the human world for a while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Discord Community Archive, Witcher Rarepair Discord Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Tick Tick Ticking of My Heart, The Itch Itch Itching of My Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohydrated/gifts">sohydrated</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Dettlaff will never understand why Regis <i>prepares</i> him this way. The table is hard under his back. The wood is scratching at his skin where the carpenter hammered the iron nails in deeply, burying them in the oak. Oddly the back door into the kitchen has been left wide open. Even though it is off to the side, anyone stepping though would see Dettlaff immediately on their right, stark naked on the long table Regis uses for his herbs. It fits his body almost perfectly, smelling of hellebore and beggartick.</p><p>Dettlaff turns his head and watches Regis putter around the kitchen, collecting items from their proper spots. Some would say the kitchen is full of nooks and crannies but Dettlaff knows it’s really full of <i>homes</i>—one for everything.</p><p>Oil, the small boar bristle hand broom Regis uses to sweep the counters clean, a badger hair shaving brush, wool, and several linen bandages.</p><p>Each item is set at the foot or head of the table where there is room above and below Dettlaff’s body. That shaving brush is likely older than most of the Beauclairoise humans and Dettlaff opens his mouth to say something but then nothing comes out. He closes it without uttering the words. </p><p>Regis is looking down at him with his hands clasped behind his back expectantly, bent just slightly forward at the waist as if he needs to get closer for a better view. He does not.</p><p>“Why do you do this to me?” That is what Dettlaff hears come from his mouth instead, when he opens it again.</p><p>“My dear, I would say because you need it, but I’m afraid you would give me that look again. So how about this instead: Because I want you to do something for me?” Regis smiles. Wide and bright, unhindered by the need to hide his fangs and his nature.</p><p>“Oh.” Dettlaff can hear the surprise in his own voice. That hadn’t been what he was expecting to hear. He isn’t sure what he <i>had been</i> expecting, but that was not it. “Oh? I-” Looking down at his hands, laced together on his stomach, Detleff searches for the answer. The one that explains the way things are in his mind, but he can’t find a way to make it sound correct out loud. “-enjoy that. What is it you want me to <i>do</i> for you?”</p><p>Dettlaff's heart ticks in his chest. Interminable and unstoppable. Every contraction hard enough that he imagines he can feel it chasing its way up his neck and down his arms, or is it real? Perhaps he can indeed feel it. It is so hard to tell sometimes. The curiosity in the air is thick, weighing down the room. Dettlaff waits, watching Regis with an eager mind, casting about for purpose.</p><p>“This. I want you to do as I bid. Allow me to bind you, blind you, help you feel your body and find your mind again. Please, dear? You seem to be struggling quite a lot lately.” It was impossible, Dettlaff had long ago found, to ignore that sonorously soft voice. It crept into his mind and crawled around in his head.</p><p>“Have I?” Holding Regis’ eyes is fast becoming difficult, almost painful, and finally Dettlaff has to look away. “Apologies. I hadn’t noticed. I can do better.”</p><p>“No need to apologize, dear.” Regis moves to pick up the wool. Pulling it apart into two even hunks. Bright white and clean. With one in each hand, held carefully between his first two fingers, Regis rubs Dettlaff’s temples with his thumbs. “Can you give me your worries?”</p><p>Dettlaff knows Regis is waiting for an answer. Verbally. He won’t continue without it. It takes a concerted effort to decide to let each concern go. Not to trust Regis—Dettlaff trusts him without intention or logic. But to trust Regis with his worries. Each and every one of them is Dettlaff's concern alone. Or they should be.</p><p>But Regis is offering to hold onto them for a while.</p><p>It’s not dissimilar when Dettlaff helped Regis regenerate, in the end. Regis is offering him the chance to recuperate without the need to be concerned with human things or the bloated overstuffed human world.</p><p>“Yes.” Flashing his eyes up to Regis’ caramel colored ones, Dettlaff immediately looks back down. The wool is pressed into his ears muffling the sounds around him but Dettlaff knows the kiss in the middle of his forehead means <i>thank you, dear</i>.</p><p>The bandage is wrapped around his head. It captures Dettlaff’s ears, trapping the wool in them, and his eyes, blinding him to the world. Regis winds the bandages as carefully as he would on any freshly injured wound. Turning the linen over on itself to increase the pressure over Dettlaff’s ears and press the wool into them, further shutting out the sounds.</p><p>Soon the world is quiet and dark.</p><p>The soft brush tickles up the sole of Dettlaff’s foot and he instinctively yanks his knee up, pulling his limb out of reach. A hand pets soothingly over his knee and gently presses it down. The brush sweeps up the sole of his other foot and Dettlaff jerks but doesn’t pull away. The brush, he’s sure it’s the shaving brush, swishes its way back and forth up his legs and over the top of his groin, barely brushing the dark curls above his cock.</p><p>Dettlaff <i>hates</i> it. It’s softness makes his skin crawl, and leaves it itching. Still it travels all over his body until he is keening. Writhing slightly on the table with the desire to sit up and tear the linen from his face. Then as suddenly as it started it stops. And Dettlaff is left in the silent dark again, with only the sound of his panting loud in his ears next to the tick of his heart.</p><p>Crossing his arms, Dettlaff starts to scratch at them, but hands gently pull them apart. Set them at his side, patting his hands in a reminder to be still. Something stiffer scrubs at Dettlaff’s skin, easing the itch, scratching it for him. And the relief is <i>immense</i>. So good a shudder runs through Dettlaff’s entire body as the stiff bristles all clustered in a line sweep up his legs. The skin left in its wake feels new— alive.</p><p>Dettlaff’s moan reverberates in his own head, and something heavy is laid over his cock. This only makes him groan again. He hadn’t even realized he was getting hard but the pressure, the weight of something pressing down on his cock makes him suddenly aware of it. Of the way it thickens with every pulse and the way the sweeps of the hand broom, for that must be what it is, only makes his heart tick faster.</p><p>Tick. Throb. Tick. Throb. <i>Moan</i>. “Please-” </p><p>The pressure on whatever rests on his cock increases for a moment and Dettlaff gurgles his words. </p><p>Skin fizzling with relief the brushing continues. Around his hips and over his chest. And Dettleff is hot. He wonders if Regis has started a fire before they began but his mind is too addled by the pressing insistence of his cock to remember. The brush sweeping down Dettlaff’s arms is almost euphoric, making him shiver all over again and whatever is on his cock slides.</p><p>Regis catches it though, steadying it and pressing it down again. Dettlaff bucks up into the pressure that makes him acutely aware of his <i>need</i> and then everything stops again. The brush is gone, Regis’ hands, only the weight on his cock remains.</p><p>Heart ticking in his ears, pulse throbbing in his cock, Dettlaff’s waits, panting and patient.</p><p> </p><p>Regis takes in the sight of Dettlaff on his table. Chest flushed a rosy hue from its natural pale. Dark hair dampening at the edges with sweat. Skin pinking from the bristles and book laying over his cock. He is incredibly handsome when he is getting what he needs, Regis thinks to himself.</p><p>After a few moments of contemplation Regis steps out of the kitchen door and retrieves a marble baking slab. To a human it would be a feat to carry it around but to a vampire it is a trifle. Very gently Regis sets it over Dettlaff’s chest. Hears his breath hitch at the weight, then calm and accept it when Regis transfers it to him.</p><p>Regis knows Dettlaff, like him, doesn’t need to breathe. Unless he wants to talk, or appear human.</p><p>Going to the head of the table Regis sinks his fingers into Dettlaff’s hair. Massaging and untangling the curls there until they are all in a neat order. When he senses that Dettlaff has calmed considerably he flexes his fingers, growing the inhuman claws on this left hand long and sharp in an instant.</p><p>Talons slipping under the bandage Regis slices it off, then quickly bends forward to steal Dettlaff’s mouth. When he draws back Dettlaff’s eyes are wide glacial pools. There are no words though, and Regis is silently proud that Dettleff has found his place in his mind.</p><p>“My dear, you look lovely right now. Could you breathe for me? Count each one and remember the weight of it?” Dettlaff only nodded in response sucking in a deep breath and for Regis that was more than enough.</p><p> </p><p>Dettlaff watched in a daze as Regis pulled up a tall stool and took a seat at his waist. The weight was lifted from his cock, pulling a short groan from him. All he could manage with the weight on his chest. The book was added to that weight—Regis flipping it open to a page and holding it there.</p><p>Oil dripped on Dettleff’ cock.</p><p>“Are you counting?” Regis’ voice was calm but there was a distinct question in it and Dettlaff hurried to comply. Pulling in a second breath he noted how heavy the stone on his chest was. On the fourth he noted with displeasure and a small frown that his cock was aching with need again, the weight gone from it. And on the fifth Dettlaff <i>gasped</i> struggled to stay still as Regis’ strong hand engulfed it.</p><p>Eyes flitting about Dettlaff couldn’t quite understand, Regis was simply reading from the book on the marble slab balanced on his chest. He seemed unaffected, and yet Dettlaff’c cock was on fire from the firm touch, gripping at the base and milking up to the top. It pass pulling the blood into his cockhead until it throbbed with almost painful need.</p><p>“What breath are you on my dear?” The casual question caught Dettlaff completely by surprise.</p><p>“Tw- twenty three. Regis, why are-”</p><p>“Hush, focus on your counting.” The page flipped and Regis gave a small smile, the slab moving minutely with Dettlaff’s breath. “That’s good, you are doing very well.”</p><p>Dettlaff closed his eyes and lifted his hips, inhaling the smell of his own arousal and all the scents of the herbs in the kitchen; celandine, hellebore, beggartick, and hops. Behind it all the smell of mandrake hooch. The squeeze of Regis’ hand was proving too much and Dettlaff could feel himself losing control.</p><p>“It’s perfectly alright. What number are you on?” </p><p>Dettlaff struggled to find the words but managed to get them out in a breathy gasp. “Forty four.”</p><p>“Good, at fifty you will spill for me.”</p><p>“Wha?-” It was too much not to just accept it though. Dettlaff was so very close to the edge he couldn’t imagine denying his body this release now.</p><p>Forty-six, forty- seven. His heart ticked and his cock pulsed, the itch in his skin gone far away. Forty-eight, forty-nine. Regis’ hand drew up squeezing from the base of Dettlaff’s shaft up to the  tip, then his thumb slid over the sensitive opening in the head and Dettlaff cried out. Cum bubbling past Regis’ firm grip, and pleasure grabbing at Dettleff’s core.</p><p>Dettlaff doesn’t remember the trip to the bed. Or when it became night. He only knows that he wakes up in Regis’ arms. With Regis reading that same book and a faintly amused look on his face.</p><p>“Feeling better, my dear?”</p><p>“Much.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is not my usual pairing to write but that does not mean I love them any less :) I just only have so much time to write and a lot of ideas! Hop you enjoyed please leave a comment if you do and a kudos if you are to shy.</p><p>@BBean0199 on twitter and discord, or find me on Pillowfort BBean there as well.</p><p>Image for the cover is from the original Grays Anatomy</p></blockquote></div></div>
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